


Midnight Whisperings

by halfsweet



Series: Parallel AU [4]
Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Humor, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Pillow Talk, Post-Coital Cuddling, there's literally no plot halfway through
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 17:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10598397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfsweet/pseuds/halfsweet
Summary: Brendon tries to come to terms with the fact that he's no longer in his twenties with the help of his sleepy boyfriend.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I actually started this in February

Brendon collapses on the bed beside Patrick, panting and grinning as he gently kisses the older man on the cheek. “Best birthday sex _ever.”_

“You say that every year.” Patrick laughs softly and throws him a lazy glance, also panting, though his breathing is faster than Brendon’s. “I can't believe you actually waited until the clock strikes midnight to start.”

“I just wanna make sure I'm spending the first second of my birthday with you.” Brendon grins, planting more kisses on his adorable boyfriend's face.

Patrick lifts an eyebrow, amused. “By having sex?”

“Hey.” Brendon chides, pulling back to look at Patrick and putting on the most stern face he can muster. “By having _awesome_ sex.”

“Mm hmm. Awesome.” Patrick begins to yawn and stretches his body. Brendon can't help but to smile when Patrick's face twists into a grimace, his body going tense. He brushes Patrick's hair away from his sweaty forehead and kisses there before rolling out of bed.

See, even though they've done this almost a thousand times, Brendon loves the fact that Patrick's a cuddler after sex. Every time he gets out of bed to grab a wet cloth for Patrick, Patrick would whine and make grabby hand motions at him to get him back into bed.

It's almost ten years, and he'll never get tired of it.

He grabs Patrick's hand and kisses the knuckles. “I'll be back in a second, babe. You won't even know I'm gone.”

The older man mumbles something unintelligible under his breath before his eyelids droop shut, and Brendon lets go of their hands, pulling his boxers back on and going into the bathroom.

It feels different this time. He's always excited whenever his birthday comes around, but this time, instead of excited, he feels… different. He doesn't know what it is, but it's unlike the feeling he had every year.

Oh, wait. He knows why.

He's turning the big three o.

Grabbing the washcloth and wetting it, he sneaks back to bed where Patrick is dozing off on his side. He sits next to him and lightly and carefully dabs at the skin between Patrick's thighs, making sure not to rouse him from his sleep.

Thirty… being thirty is good, right? His boyfriend turned out just fine when he turned thirty three years ago. In fact, it's like nothing's changed. Patrick's still in his band, still rocking out in every concert, still making music, still with his three best friends. He's just like how he was when Fall Out Boy started.

So, maybe… maybe his life wouldn't change too, right? He still has Panic, is a Grammy nominee (he scored a round of pity sex that night after they got back), and…

“B?” Patrick's sleepy voice jolts him out of his trails of thoughts. “What are you thinking about?”

Brendon smiles sheepishly at him, rolling Patrick gently on his back as he begins to wipe his stomach and chest clean. “Stuff. Don't worry.”

“C'mon, B. I've known you too long to know that it isn't just _stuff.”_ Patrick sighs, shifting up the mattress until his head hits the pillow. Then, he looks up at Brendon with droopy eyes, slurring out, “What is it?”

His heart swells at his boyfriend's concern. Even when Patrick's tired and worn out (Brendon's really proud of himself!), he still worries about him.

He places the washcloth on the night stand and leans over the edge of the bed to pick Patrick's boxers up, then slides it on the older man. Patrick sleepily mumbles a _“Thank you"_ as he settles back on the bed, pulling Patrick until he's resting his head on his chest and wrapping one arm around him.

“I'm thirty,” he says in a voice of disbelief, fingers dancing on Patrick's skin. “Like. I have the number three in front for my age now.”

Patrick's head brushes against his chest in a nod. “You're thirty now. Welcome to the club.”

“But. Like-” He pauses when he struggles to find his words. “I don't know what I should feel.”

“You should feel sleepy.”

He ignores Patrick's words and continues with his internal crisis. “I mean- I don't know. Should I feel happy? Excited? Calm?”

Patrick yawns. “What about sleepy?”

“It's just like every other year. We grow one year older, right? So, being thirty shouldn't be any different than when I was twenty-nine, right?” He glances down to Patrick, who is nodding off, and he nudges him to get him awake.

Patrick snorts, startled, and rubs his eyes. “Huh? Wha- uh, yeah. Uh huh.”

“Babe, come on. Don’t fall asleep on me.” He whines as he shakes Patrick awake. As much as he loves watching Patrick’s adorable sleeping face, he has a Very Urgent crisis to tend to, with capitals V and U, that not even Patrick’s adorable sleeping face can top it.

“M’not sleeping.” Patrick yawns, and despite his answer, he snuggles closer to the dark-haired man and closes his eyes again. “Promise.”

Lifting his hand, he pushes Patrick back by the tip of his nose with his index finger until Patrick’s rolling off his chest and lying flat on his back and whining. _“Bren.”_

“So. Thirty.” Brendon continues, ignoring his boyfriend’s pleas which turn into quiet grumbles to let him sleep. He stares up at the ceiling, one hand pillowing his head, the other idly playing with Patrick’s fingers. “Did anything happen when you turn thirty?”

“I had amazing birthday sex courtesy of my boyfriend.”

His chest vibrates with a deep chuckle at the answer, and when he glances at Patrick, the latter is giving him a cheeky yet sleepy grin. Then, Patrick sighs, his head lolled to the side facing Brendon, gazing softly up at him and lacing their fingers together. “You don’t have to worry about turning thirty, B. If you feel like things are changing, I promise you _we_ won’t. My feelings won’t.”

When Patrick brings their hands up to his lips, Brendon just melts at the amount of affection behind the gesture and in those blue eyes. Patrick usually shows his affections in a subtle way, sometimes in an exasperated oh-my-god-why-am-I-in-love-with-you kind of way, but when it’s open like this, when nothing’s hidden and everything’s out on the surface, it makes him fall even deeper.

“I know.” He whispers a few seconds later, then repeats it with more confidence. “But it feels like there will be more responsibilities, more stuff, more… I don’t know.” His gaze falls to their laced fingers, and he sighs. “I feel like there’s going to be something _more,_ and I’m not sure if I’m ready for it.”

“Brendon, hey.” Patrick murmurs, one hand resting on his cheek gently. “There will _always_ be more. That’s how you know you’ve grown. You realize things around you that you haven’t realized before. And sometimes you might even feel like you’re obligated to do something about it, but you just don’t know what. And that’s okay.”

That doesn’t sound really reassuring. He rests his hand over Patrick’s, tracing over the skin lightly with his thumb. “I don’t want to feel like that. I don’t like not knowing.”

It keeps him up at night. Keeps his mind racing at a thousand miles an hour with no traffic, no brakes, no nothing. There’s no way of stopping unless he gets a definite answer. He hates the feeling; he’s already restless enough with his ADHD, he doesn't need to add more to it.

“I know, but it’s life, Bren. You don’t always get what you want.” Patrick’s lips quirk up into a small smile, and Brendon can’t help returning the smile.

“But I got you.” His smile widens when Patrick’s cheeks turn bright pink in the darkness of their bedroom. Patrick scoots closer and ducks his head under his chin, abashed, but Brendon doesn’t miss the upward curve of his lips. He drops a kiss on the crown of his head and untangles their fingers to wrap his arm around the blond’s waist. “So. Tell me about this club you mentioned earlier.”

Patrick chuckles softly as he nuzzles against Brendon’s neck. “You can only join when you’re officially thirty. All of us would get together sometimes, have some wine, intellectual talks. Gabe brought up a very... _interesting_ subject the last time we had a meeting.”

“Whoa, whoa. Wait.” Brendon stops him and frowns down at his boyfriend, who is looking up at him curiously. “Gabe? As in Saporta? Who else is in this so-called club? How many times do you guys usually have these meetings? How come I didn’t know about this?”

“Okay, first off-” Patrick taps him on the nose, his eyes glinting playfully. “Lose the questions and the possessiveness. S’not cool.”

Brendon slaps Patrick’s hand away halfheartedly and rubs at his nose, grumbling, “Who says cool anymore?”

Patrick lifts his eyebrows in amusement before sticking his tongue out at him. “Practically all of DCD members who are over thirty are in this club. We meet, like, once a month at everyone’s-”

 _All of DCD members?_ He frowns. “Wait. Is Dallon in on this?”

“He is.” Patrick nods. “He  _is_ older than both of us after all.”

“And Kenny?”

“Uh huh.”

“Even Dan?”

Patrick’s face brightens up at the mention of the drummer, and Brendon is definitely not jealous. Not jealous of his drummer, and not jealous that he’s not in this _club._ Nope. Not jealous at all.

“Oh, right! Dan! He just turned thirty a couple of months ago, right? His initiation party was one of the best parties I’ve ever been to…” Patrick sighs happily, totally oblivious to the fact that Brendon is pouring steam out of his ears.

His band is in the club, and they’ve been keeping it a secret from _him? His own band._

How dare they.

And don’t get him started on his own boyfriend.

The sound of Patrick’s giggles and the soft press of lips on his jawline breaks him out of thoughts, and he scowls at his boyfriend. “What?”

“I was just kidding, B. There’s no club,” Patrick says through his giggles. “You should’ve seen the look on your face.”

“Yeah. Go ahead and make fun of me.” Brendon crosses his arms and huffs, rolling over on his side so his back is facing Patrick. He isn’t really mad at Patrick, no. He just likes the attention Patrick showers him with whenever the older man feels guilty and wants his forgiveness.

And God knows how much he loves attention, especially if it’s from the singer of Fall Out Boy himself.

“B, come on.” Patrick’s laughter still hasn’t ceased, and he feels Patrick’s hand on his shoulder before he shrugs it off, pretending to still be angry at him.

“Bren…”

He fights off the shudder when Patrick’s warm breath brush against the back of his neck, and he curls in on himself as Patrick drapes his arm over his waist to pull him back. When he doesn’t budge, Patrick lifts himself up lazily and sprawls over him. _“Brendon._ Hey, Brendon. I love you.”

He chuckles at his boyfriend’s words. Patrick has always been the type to get sleepy and delirious after sex to the point his speech gets all slurred out. He rolls back onto his back, making Patrick fall on his chest from the movement, but neither makes a motion to move.

“I love you too, you cuddlebug.” He smiles as he combs Patrick’s hair lightly, which doesn’t take more than three seconds for Patrick’s eyelids to slide back shut. He watches in adoration at the older man currently dozing off above him.

To this date, he doesn’t understand how he got lucky to have Patrick in his life, to have Patrick by his side. To have Patrick reciprocating his feelings.

The past nine years have been absolutely wonderful and pure heaven, and he still wakes up every morning wondering if he’s been dreaming the entire time. And when he opens his eyes and sees Patrick’s sleeping face next to him, he couldn’t be any more thankful that it’s all real.

His gaze lands on the hand curled on his chest, and he trails his fingers from the wrist to each one of Patrick’s fingers, lingering a little when he reaches the fourth finger.

One day… one day, the finger won’t be bare. One day, the finger will have a ring around it.

And he will be there when it happens. He will be the one to slide the ring on in front of everyone.

“Babe.” He whispers as he plants a kiss on the top of Patrick’s head.  “Hey, cuddlebug. You awake?”

Patrick makes a soft whine, his nose scrunching up adorably. “What?”

“When we get married, what do you think our first time would be like as a married couple?”

 _“Not_ kinky.”

“That's boring.” Brendon snorts.

Patrick shifts his position, moving upwards until his head rests on Brendon’s shoulder. “On the contrary, I actually miss having boring, non-kinky, pure vanilla sex.”

“What about, like, a pair of handcuffs? After everything that we’ve done, I doubt we can go back to being vanilla.”

“No.” Patrick shoots down his suggestion simply, his eyes still closed. “Our first time married will be exactly like our first time together. Slow and gentle.”

He remembers their first time together. He was so nervous he fumbled to open the lube and the condom and fell off the bed after. Although, his nerves did somewhat lessen when Patrick smiled and told him, _“Relax, B. It’s just me.”_

He opens his mouth to protest, but Patrick interrupts him, as if already knowing what he’s about to say. “And if you so much as tie my hands or call yourself Daddy, we’re not going to have any sex on our honeymoon.”

He closes his mouth quickly. Then, after a few considerable seconds, he opens his mouth again.

“And my hands and my mouth will be nowhere near your dick the entire time. I mean it.”

“You know, babe, I think sometimes you forget just how much control you have over Brendon Jr.”

Patrick snorts in laughter. “Please don't call it that.”

“The Magnificent Beast?”

“No!”

_“Batmobile and Batcave.”_

“Brendon!” Laughter erupts from Patrick's chest as he rolls back to his side of bed, and Brendon’s grin becomes even wider.

He moves to sit between Patrick’s legs, holding his thighs and putting on a serious face. “Attention, commander. This is Captain Urie of the Starship Enterprise, requesting permission to land.”

Clearing his throat, Patrick answers with a low voice, “Permission denied, Captain.”

“Commander, I must insist you permit me to land.” He’s honestly surprised that he memorizes the lines. The last time he watched Star Trek was _years_ ago. “I have come, alone and unarmed, on a _purely_ diplomatic and humanitarian mission.” He leans in closer with each word, and by the time they’re face to face, he’s practically purring the words out.

“You have no business here, Captain.” Patrick whispers, his fingers tapping on the hard chest and making their way up. “Diplomatic, humanitarian-” he boops on Brendon’s nose. “-or otherwise.”

Brendon tilts his head and captures Patrick’s finger between his teeth, tongue teasingly licking at the pad. “I disagree, Commander. My purpose is to visit the…”

Leaning down, he mouths at the base of Patrick’s throat, leaving small kisses all the way down his chest and relishing at the quiet moans he gets. “...prisoners…”

“...in your brig.” When he reaches the soft and round stomach, he grins before attaching his lips at the skin and blowing raspberries all over.

“Oh- oh my god.” Patrick squeals in laughter and tries to push him off at the same time. “Brendon! Oh my god. You just totally ruined the mood.”

“The mood’s already ruined the moment we started quoting Star Trek.” Brendon points out with a cheeky grin, and he lies on top of Patrick, practically squishing him into the mattress. Patrick lets out a grunt at the weight and squirms around until he can breathe.

“We’re definitely not telling Joe and Andy about this. We'd probably just ruined the series for them.”

“Can I tell Dallon?” Brendon closes his eyes in contentment when he feels Patrick’s fingers in his hair and his hand on his back. “I like ruining things for him.”

“No.” Patrick answers, kissing him on the shoulder where he can reach. “Sorry, B.”

“S’okay, cuddlebug. I’m sure I can find something else to ruin.”

His body begins to relax, molding into his boyfriend under him, and his breathing slows down, following the rhythm to Patrick stroking his hair. It’s nice, quiet, warm. Soft. Until...

“Unless you want to start round two right now, I suggest you stop kissing my neck.”

“Oh, please. Like you're complaining.” Patrick chuckles softly and pulls back, poking him on the cheek.

Brendon draws out a long dramatic sigh and rolls off of Patrick. “I have a _very_ hard time keeping up to pleasure all my boyfriends.”

Patrick lifts his eyebrow in amusement. “ _All_ your boyfriends?”

Brendon nods seriously and rolls over on his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows before looking at the older man. “See, happy Patrick loves giggly sex. Sweet Patrick loves cuddly sex. Angry Patrick loves rough sex. Horny Patrick loves kinky sex. Affectionate Patrick loves passionate sex. Sad Patrick loves gentle sex. That’s, like, _six_ Patricks I have to take care of.”

Patrick rolls his eyes at the explanation. “That sounds more like you rather than me.”

“Oh, psh.” Brendon flaps his hand mindlessly. “Tomayto, tomahto. We both ended up with amazing sex anyway.”

“Like earlier?”

“Birthday sex is _always_ amazing.” He leans over and pecks Patrick on the lips. “Speaking of, you haven’t wished me a happy birthday yet. You didn’t forget my birthday _again,_ did you?”

“Of course not.” Patrick quickly denies, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment at the reminder of what happened last year, and kisses him sweetly until they both have to break apart because they can't stop smiling against each other's lips. “Happy birthday, B. What do you wish for?”

“Can we be like one of those disgustingly cheesy couples?” He looks up at him, hands folded on Patrick’s chest as he rests his chin on them. “Make the guys annoyed and all.”

Patrick looks at him in query. “How?”

“We’ll, like, I don’t know, do giggles and shit. Those cute stuffs that make you want to barf. And instead of babe, I’ll call you _cuddlebug.”_ He grins gleefully, the corner of his eyes crinkling from how wide his grin is. “And you’ll call me, I don’t know, something other than B or Bren. Or-”

“Lovebug?” Patrick cuts him off with a dorky smile, though his eyes shine bright at the new nickname. “That’s pretty cute. You’re my lovebug. I think I’m calling you that from now on.”

Brendon laughs softly under his breath, absolutely lovestruck with his adorable boyfriend. He kisses the tip of Patrick’s nose and presses their foreheads together. “I’ll do the same then, cuddlebug. My forever cuddlebug.”

He slides his hand behind Patrick’s neck and pulls him in for a deep kiss, nibbling gently at his bottom lip as he hovers over him, their kiss gradually turning more passionate and heated by the second. He tugs at the lip between his teeth, slowly pulling away before releasing with a quiet pop, Patrick whimpering in the process, and kisses down his neck.

“We are going to have round two now, then we'll go to sleep.” He whispers, still pressing kisses on Patrick's neck and enjoying the small moans from the older man. “And when we wake up in the morning, we'll have another round.”

He moves down to bite gently at the collarbone, enough to leave a small mark. “And then another in the shower.”

“That's-” Patrick's breath stutters as his eyelids flutter shut, back arched for friction between their bodies, “ _God_ \- yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Before he can move further down, Patrick stops him by placing a hand on his shoulder. “W- wait. You do realize that Pete is throwing a party for you, right?”

“Uh huh.” Brendon answers nonchalantly. He couldn't care less about a party for him when he has an almost-naked and turned on Patrick under him.

“Everyone's coming, even Gabe and Travie and the Politics kids? And Lolo?”

“I know.”

He lets out a whine in protest when Patrick places a hand on his chest to push him away slightly.  “And you do realize that after _four_ rounds, I may not be able to walk properly?”

“Let's just skip the party.” He latches his mouth back on Patrick's skin, sucking gently and adding more hickeys. He whines again when Patrick pushes him back. “What is it this time?”

“B, seriously, remember last time when we skipped Halloween?”

How could he forget? Patrick had promised that he'd wear anything, and one of the outfits that he wore (yes, _one of the outfits,_ because Patrick wore _more_ than one outfit! All of his fantasies came true in that one, magical, _magical_ night, and it certainly is a night he will _never_ forget) was that Harley Quinn costume, and holy shit, those ass looked fucking _amazing_ in those shorts. And the best part?

He got Patrick to wear the _Daddy's Little Monster_ shirt!

 _And_ he got Patrick to call him _Daddy_ again!

_Best! Night! Ever!_

Brendon sighs dreamily up at him. “Yeah. You look good in those booty shorts.”

“No!” Patrick scolds him, though there's a dark blush on his face now. Brendon's not surprised, though. That Halloween night would put all of their sexcapades to shame. “Brendon, they _know._ If we skip another party, they know that we're, _y’know.”_

“Having awesome kinky sex?”

“W- well,” Patrick stammers, blushing again, _“yeah.”_

He kisses under Patrick's jaw to hide his grin. “You're the one who wanted to skip the Halloween party.”

“And I’ve learned my lesson.” He can almost hear the embarrassment in Patrick's voice, and he's having so much fun with it. “No, Brendon. We are _not_ skipping any more parties. I'm tired of getting looks from the other guys.”

“Ignore them.”

“No.” This time, when Patrick pushes him back, the older man immediately sits up, poking him in the chest with a stern look. “We are going to _your_ birthday party that Pete organized, so we are _not_ having four rounds.”

He looks at Patrick in disbelief with his mouth agape. Did- did Patrick just- _on his own birthday?_ “But-"

“No buts.” Patrick interrupts him with a glare. “We are not skipping, and that's final. So, I'm cutting off morning sex and shower sex.”

“But-”

“That's final, Brendon. One more round or none at all.”

“But it's my birthday!”

“And I'm going to have a limp after four rounds!”

“If you’re worried about that, I can carry you all day.”

“If I were you, I’d tread _very_ carefully, _lovebug,”_ Patrick says slowly as he narrows his eyes, “Or we’re not having sex _at all_.”

Brendon crosses his arms, pouting in defeat. _“Fine._ Two rounds.”

“Nope.” Patrick shakes his head and copies Brendon’s action. _“One_ round. Right now, later, or in the shower. Your choice.”

His jaw drops, mouth hanging open, but he regains himself and puts on a stern expression, matching Patrick’s. “Two rounds. Right now and in the shower.”

“How about this.” Patrick starts. “One round, and I’ll let you tie my hands.”

Brendon purses his lips. He still wants shower sex, though. That’s, like, one of the places where they have their steamiest sex ever. “Two rounds,” he stands by his previous point, “and I'll let you ride me.”

Patrick seems to be considering his offer, and he leans in anticipation. It’s usually difficult for them to come to a consensus during any kinds of negotiations, and it takes them a long time to find one. By the time they do, all the mood is already gone.

This is his _birthday_ , damn it. He is _not_ going to miss out on any forms of sex on his special day.

“ _One_ round.” Patrick emphasizes, holding his index finger up. “I’ll let you tie my hands, _and_ I’ll even do all your chores tomorrow.”

Brendon lifts an eyebrow at Patrick’s offer. Exchanging sex with chores? Really? “Two rounds. I’ll let you ride me, and I’ll be gentle in the shower.”

When Patrick crosses his arms, looking thoughtful, Brendon leans back to sit on his heels, drumming his fingers impatiently on his thigh. “I will ride you,” the older man says slowly after almost a minute of silence. Hearing his own proposal coming from his boyfriend’s mouth, a small grin slowly creeps on his face. Maybe he’s getting those two rounds after all.

“And I’ll blow you in the shower. Then we go to your birthday party. Final offer. Take it or leave it.”

His shoulders instantly droop. “That’s, like, only one and a half round. Where’s the other half?”

“If you round it off, you still get two.”

Cheeky smartass. Then, an idea strikes him. “Just to clarify, we’re still having it later tonight, right? As many rounds as I want?”

“I- I guess.” Patrick’s arms fall to his side in confusion. “If I don’t have to go anywhere tomorrow.”

“If that’s the case…” He crawls back towards Patrick, pushing the blond man gently down until his back lies flat on the bed, and leans in until their noses almost brush together. He can hear Patrick’s small hitch of breath in his throat, and he smirks inwardly. He’s going to win this negotiation for sure.

“One round.” He whispers as he attaches his lips on Patrick’s throat, letting his teeth graze against the skin lightly before bringing Patrick's hands above his head and pinning them down to the mattress with one hand. “I’ll tie your hands, and…”

Then, he lifts his head to look at the other in the eye, biting his lip suggestively. Patrick’s face darkens with a violent blush, swallowing audibly. “Um. I- I- uh- I-”

Yup. He wins.

Knowing that he’s won the moment Patrick starts stammering, he ducks his head beside Patrick’s, softly nipping at the sensitive spot behind his ear and pushing his knee against Patrick’s crotch.

“B- Brendon...” Patrick whimpers, grinding down on his knee.

“You know that’s not it, baby.” Brendon tuts and pushes back, applying even more pressure. He moves his hand down to between Patrick’s legs, gently squeezing the slight bulge in his boxers.

Patrick gasps at the feeling, head thrown back against the pillow as his hips lift off the mattress. “Oh _God-”_

Brendon hums again, still biting and squeezing and teasing him. “Flattered, but try again.”

He can't help the smirk on his face when Patrick finally says the word that he's been dying to hear.

_“D- Daddy!”_

Maybe being thirty won't be so bad. He just learned how to make something that seemed impossible possible after all.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is going to be my last fic _for now._ I don't think I'm able to do any writing for the next two months, because the only writing I'm doing is my thesis hahaha *curls on the floor and sobs
> 
> I'll still be lurking around tho, especially in the brentrick tag, but if you want to reach me, you know where to find me!


End file.
